


Pixelated Pornography

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Series: Sex is Violent [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chastity Device, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking, Stilinski Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little blurb told him Stiles had sent him a video. He didn’t want to open it. It was a bad idea. There was absolutely no way that the contents of this video could hold anything good. </p><p>He pressed view anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pixelated Pornography

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of a series. Maybe read the other part first.

Derek drove back to his apartment immediately after _whatever_ that was. His throat had felt like it was closing up, his chest collapsing - as they should - and he ran away regardless. He knew vaguely that it was weak and unheroic to have left Stiles with those two. Stiles had been frightened and silenced and Derek had been too stupid to do anything. Worried that he had harmed the boy, he was deserting him so he could be hurt more, and he could barely even consider any alternative course of action.

They were still in the house, and he speeding away in his car. He could have easily turned around and gotten out and stormed in and pulled Stiles away. But, instead, he sat, frozen in forward motion, in his stupid car, just trying to breathe. It was almost as if he still thought he deserved to breathe. 

Back at his apartment, after he had showered, he sat numb and still in his kitchen, watching the clock, trying not to think. Five minutes, then ten, then twenty passed. He finally took out his phone. Staring at it, he was consumed by the need to hear that Stiles was okay, even though he knew with every ounce of his being that the boy really wasn’t.

Calling was going to be useless anyway. Stu obviously had at least some control over his brother’s phone. But, Derek realized he had to do _something_ , and called Stiles’s cell.

The phone rang twice and he was greeted by a lazy, smug, “ _Hey, Derek_.” from a voice that was all wrong and mocking and certainly not Stiles.

Derek hung up on Stuart before thinking it through. He almost threw the phone at the wall as well, as if the device had been contaminated simply by carrying Stu’s voice. Instead, he sat very quietly for another minute, staring at the black screen. 

He was about to put his phone away and sit silently in the dark, considering what to do next, when a message notification and a little blurb told him _Stiles_ had sent him a video. He didn’t want to open it. It was a bad idea. There was absolutely no way that the contents of this video could hold anything good. 

He pressed view anyway.

It was a close up shot of Stiles’s face, and he was flushed and exhausted, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth slack and wet. Someone, and the long, leanness of the fingers indicated that someone was Stuart, was stroking their cock at his face, their other hand tangled in his hair. Stiles’s eyes met the camera and he weakly turned his face away in shame, but his brother’s hand held him firmly set in place. 

Stuart came, a string of ejaculate roping over the by’s cheek and the side of his nose. Another string slashed across his red, swollen lips. Stu rubbed his cock against his brother’s face, smearing the come, as Stiles turned his head a little more and closed his eyes with nothing more than a look of resignation. 

Derek did drop his phone as the video ended, his hands shaking too much to hold it. Unfortunately, it only fell into his lap and did not break. He was out the door in the next moment, keys snatched up from the table and shoes forgotten in his room, and driving back to the Stilinski house in the early dusk.

* * *

He parked in the same spot he’d had a brighter hour before and shut off the engine, exhaling slowly. He gripped the wheel too tightly and glanced at the house. Looking away, he banged his head against the rim. He couldn’t see them or hear them or _smell_ them anymore, but he could still _feel_ them, and he didn’t want to go back inside. 

He quite suddenly felt stupid for coming back. He had no plan. He had been driven only by the desire to make things right without the knowledge of _how_. He only knew everything would be better if he could just get Stiles outside. From there, he figured, he could take him somewhere safe. Everything would start to be okay and Derek might not be the bad guy.

He got out of the car and walked up to the door. He raised a hand to the doorknob, to break it open if he had to and just stopped. He just couldn’t get his hand any closer. Physically, it was impossible, and he could recognize a barrier when he felt one. Panic flared in his chest as he tried to force his hand to the door handle.

He took a step back to breathe, slowly, calmly, composing his thoughts. He knew Stu was thorough - to a paranoid, obsessive extent - but he checked all the windows and the backdoor anyway, circling the house a few times. 

Under Stiles's window, looking up, he tried to figured out what to do next when his phone went off.

“What.” he barked.

“Hey, Derek,” Stuart hummed. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“Why are the doors blocked?” Derek asked.

“I think you can guess.” Stu told him. “We need some alone time without an stray dogs pawing for attention. Mountain ash keeps our friends in and our foes out.” He paused, then added, chuckling, “Although, to be honest, I doubt our _friend_ needs much convincing to stay.”

“Peter.” Derek bit out, feeling even more nauseated.

“Yeah.” Stu sighed. “Guy knows how to party. He’ll probably have to stay the night. It’s for the best anyway. It just means we can pick up right where we left off after breakfast.”

Derek hung up on him, because he couldn’t listen to any more of it - he just couldn’t. And, ten minutes later, when his phone beeped again while he was driving, telling him he had a new video message, he just ignored it.

Or, he ignored it for fifteen more minutes until he was back in his apartment and sitting in his kitchen. He placed the phone carefully on the tabletop so he wouldn’t drop it this time and pressed view. 

The footage was a little shaky, at an accidental Dutch angle, as if the person filming was doing something else at the same time. But it was clear enough. Derek just kind of wished it wasn’t.

Stiles, lips swollen, face pink, was groaning as his brother sucked him off. He didn’t look hurt or scared or _resigned_. One of his hands was petting through his brother’s hair, his mouth open, allowing for a flash of teeth and tongue. Head falling to the side, he looked up and eyed the camera, and, suddenly, he didn’t look so content anymore.

He blanched and squirmed, as if preparing to get up and stop the video from being taken. Stu’s hand came to his hips to keep him down and he hummed a noise of warning. Stiles, desperate, cried out and wiggled under him weakly and, eyes still locked on the camera, said a soft little _stop_.

Stuart didn’t but the video did, and it left Derek cold and guilty and alone again.

* * *

His phone rang and he jerked awake. His laptop was open, blacked out, and he was surrounded by several, thick, useless texts. The night before had been spent trying to find a way for wolves to move mountain ash as sleep had eluded him - but this wasn’t his strong suit. _Stiles_ was good at research. Derek needed Stiles to tell him where to go.

His phone was ringing and his neck was sore. Caller ID said it was the Stilinski home phone, and he doubted it was anyone he wanted to talk to, and he didn’t want to answer.

He groaned, running a hand over his face, and took the call. “What do you want?”

“I-” the voice hesitated. “Derek, it’s Stiles.”

“Stiles,” he choked, his spine going rigid. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he aid, quickly. “Look, can you come over?”

“Are,” Derek paused and swallowed once to keep his voice from getting too thick. “Are they going to be there?”

“No.” Stiles said. 

“Are they there now?”

Stiles said nothing.

“ _Are you okay?_ ” Derek asked again.

“You already said that.” the boy huffed. “Just come over. I have to - to _talk_ to you.”

And, just like that, Derek felt his heart freeze and he thought he might be sick. Talking, when said like that, didn’t really sound like talking at all. “Stiles, what are they making you do?”

“Please,” Stiles tried again, avoiding the question. “Please, just come here.”

“Okay, okay,” and Derek stood, starting to look for his shoes and keys. “I’ll be there soon.”

But, in the car ride over, his phone beeped again, signaling a new message from _Stiles_. He pulled over, thinking it was just a text, but nearly stopped breathing when he saw it was another video. Running a hand over his face, he killed the ignition and played the video. 

It was the night before, Derek could tell. He was already a violent pink, from his ass down to his thighs, so it must have been going on for a while, as another slap sounded in the faraway room and Stiles cried out. 

“I’m _sorry_.” Stiles told them, his voice muffled by his folded arms, which he had buried his face in. He was turned away, bent over Peter’s lap, one of the man’s hand on his upper back, keeping him steady as the boy jerked and shook. The other hand was raised to spank down again. It did, hard, and Stiles keened once more. Peter rubbed the hand along his turning red backside, before starting up again.

Stuart, behind the camera, asked. “Sorry?” his voice mocking and light and feigning ignorance. Peter paused for a moment. “Sorry for what?”

“For _Derek_.” Stiles sobbed and Peter swatted at him once more, with a little less force. 

“You’ll need to be more specific.” Stu said. “I don’t think I know what exactly you’re talking about.”

Stiles started to cry as Peter smacked down again.

“I should have asked first.” Stiles babbled him through tears. “I’m sorry, Stu. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’ll be okay.” Stuart said, taking a few steps forward for a better view as Peter ran his hands down the back of the boy’s thighs and cooed at him to hold himself open. Stiles shook his head weakly into his folded arms and Peter slapped across his right cheek, hard.

“You’re only going to make things worse for yourself.” Peter said, in very reasonable tones. So, sobbing, Stiles reached behind to hold himself open. His cheek was smooshed up against the bedspread and he made a quiet, muffled sound as Peter flicked his forefinger over the exposed hole.

“Wow, would you look at that?” Stu said, almost reverently.

Peter hummed in agreement before smacking down between the boy’s cheeks, over his hole. Stiles _wailed_. 

The video cut off. Derek wasn’t watching anymore anyway. Instead, he was out of the car, retching acid onto asphalt.

* * *

The house was quiet; no cars in the driveway and the door was unlocked. Derek tried the handle, finding no barrier, but thought better of it. He knocked. 

There was some soft padding inside and then Stiles opened the door. He didn’t smile, just looked at him with a controlled face, gauging Derek’s own reaction. When Derek didn’t say or do anything, he bit his lip and lowered his gaze, stepping aside for Derek to come in. He shut the door behind them.

“Are you okay?” Derek started with - and he knew the boy wasn’t, he had the evidence on his phone, but he asked anyway. 

Stiles just rolled his eyes. “ _Hi_ , Derek. Nice to see you too. I’m doing _great_. How are you?” 

Derek didn’t respond, a little too thrown by the boy’s levity. There was a brief silence.

“Where’s your dad?” Derek asked.

“Dad worked late last night.” Stiles told him, leading the man upstairs. “Sometimes, when he’s got a lot going on, he just sleeps at work.” He paused at the head of the stairs, his eyes darting back to Derek, and he admitted, “Actually, I think he’s gotten a motel room that’s closer.”

Derek came to stand a few paces away from him, keeping an awkward distance between them. Stiles took a step forward and gave him a secretive smile. In a lowered tone, he allowed, “Stuart says he must have found some girl over there whose been keeping him busy.”

“But that’s not true.” Derek said.

Stiles’s smile faltered and then failed altogether. “No.” he said, looking down and taking the distance between them back. “No, that’s not true.”

“Your dad knows?”

Stiles glanced at the door to his bedroom. “I didn’t think he’d take it as badly as he did. I mean, it makes sense - Stu didn’t want Dad to see because he’s _Dad_ , you know? But, he walked in and-” Stiles cut himself off. He peeked up at Derek. “Come on. Let’s go to my room.” He reached out to take Derek’s hand. Without thinking, the man snatched his hand back, as if the brush of fingers had burned.

“Oh.” Stiles said, his arm falling to his side. He shook his head at himself a little. “Of course.”

“No, Stiles,” Derek said, and his own fingers came forward to lightly press at Stiles’s hand. The boy allowed himself to be pulled, but Derek didn’t touch him anywhere else. He tried to think of what to say and ended up with only, “When did your dad find out?”

Stiles eyes flashed up to his, his mouth open and his grip tightening on his hand. “About an hour before you did.” He turned and started to tug the man behind him to the bedroom. “Dad and Stu had a fight and Dad stormed out, so Stu called Peter.” 

He opened the door, and the smell wasn’t as offensive as Derek had thought it might be. Stiles had changed his sheets and the window as open to air out the room. “Peter and I,” the boy continued, “We were - uhm - _busy_ and I guess that’s when Stu got my phone to text you. Tell you the truth,” he laughed weakly, “I haven’t seen my phone since then. Shut the door.”

“How long have you two been,” and he nearly gagged on the words, glad his face was turned away from the boy as he shut them in, “With Peter?”

“Peter and I have been _you know_ for a couple of months. Stu _lets_ Peter, but they don’t - They’re not compatible. Got that whole alpha-top-dominant thing going.” He smiled again, a little weakly, and shrugged. “I guess I’ve got a type.”

Derek flared. “I’m not - I’m not _like_ them.”

Stiles huffed, more in fond amusement than anything else. “No, you’re not. _They_ would have tried to touch me by now.”

“Stiles, we need to go.” Derek said, being reminded of his purpose and taking a step even closer. “I can get you out of here.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Why?” And, he must have thought it was funny to pretend to be confused, but it just made Derek frustrated. He had to clench his fist to keep from yelling.

“Why?” Derek repeated. “ _Why?_ You - I’m not an idiot. I can see what they’re doing to you. I want to help you.”

“Oh, so what?” Stiles verbally waved him off, closing n on him, his hands coming up to Derek’s belt to start fumbling with it. “They get a little rough sometimes. I like it. I always come, in the end.” 

“That’s not-” Derek started, catching and holding the boy’s hands. He tried to calm down, exhaling shakily.

“You really don’t want me.” Stiles sighed, pulling back. He looked away from him again, his shoulders slumping and his arms crossing over his chest. “Stu said you wouldn’t after that. He said he was the only one who could even really forgive me for being a cheating - And I just wanted - 

“He was the one who told me to call you, you know.” His eyes darted up in a unsure glance at Derek’s face. “He told me you wouldn’t like me after you knew, but I should call. I’m so _sorry_ , Derek. I didn’t want to lie to you but I really _like_ you and you were always so good to me and you never asked - so I thought it might be okay to have both of you.”

“Stiles, I don’t - I still want you.” Derek told him, and the boy didn’t look relieved. Instead, he just sent him a mad, disbelieving look. He brought his hands back to Derek’s belt, more aggressive this time. 

“You’re not _acting_ like it.”

Derek tried to push him away without hurting him and, once he got Stiles’s hands off, he flipped them around and forcibly sat the boy onto the bed. Stiles groaned on impact, and then looked up at Derek, as if hoping he hadn’t noticed. As it was, the man looked upset and apologetic as he let him go and took a step back. He tried not to remember the keening wail he’d head from the boy just a few minutes before. 

Stiles rearranged his limbs so he was leaning more on his side. “Did Stu send you those videos?” he said, sounding conversational, but strained. Derek nodded and Stiles scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m so embarrassed. You... You shouldn’t have seen those.”

“Did someone,” Derek started, softly. He cleared his throat and asked, “Did someone take care of you?”

“Peter and Stu have been taking care of me for a while.” Stiles said, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“I mean, after Peter,” Derek swallowed, fighting nausea, “After he hurt you. Last night.”

Stile eyes widened and he wet his lips. “I-” and then he shook his head. “No. No, I... I didn’t know you saw _that_. I didn’t know Stu was filming when - What did you see, exactly?” Stiles pushed himself up a little more. Derek shifted uncomfortably as the boy kept him under a very intense gaze. 

“You should come with me.” he said instead of answering. “I can get you help.” 

“What are you even talking about?”

And Stiles became something much more smooth and easy then the nervous figure he had been a moment ago. The way he slid off the bed and sank to his knees before him was sensual and graceful and seemed too practiced. Derek was only a few feet away, and he wanted to take another step back, but Stiles was in front of him like that, taking up the distance between them, and he was stuck. 

“If you really want to help me,” Stiles said, looking up at the man through his lashes. His gaze darted back down to the crotch of Derek’s pants as he wet his lips again. “You’ll let me blow you.”

Derek reached down to bring Stiles to his feet. “ _No_.” he growled.

“ _Please_ ,” Stiles begged, weakly pulling at his hold, “Please, Derek. Let me do this for you.” He got away, his fingers curling around the backs of Derek’s thighs as he thudded to his knees again.

“Please, Derek,” he said, his cheek pressing against the denim over Derek’s cock. “I’ll make it so good for you. You always liked it before. You said I was a natural at it.” He pulled back, looking up at him again, and brought his hand over to stat rubbing at his trapped dick. 

And Derek groaned, feeling sick to be reminded that such a thing had left his mouth after the first time the boy had brought his lips to the man’s cock. He had just been shocked by how easily Stiles had taken it in. It hadn’t even occurred to him that it wasn’t his first time. He had just been so _sure_. “I didn’t mean it like-”

“Derek,” Stiles pleaded. “Just do me this favor.”

“Did they - Are they making you do this?” Stiles froze and Derek took a half-step back to look at him. “Did they tell you to do this? What’s going to happen if you don’t?”

Stiles almost sat back on his heels and thought better of it. “I don’t know.” he admitted. “Stu just - He said he thought it would be best, for both of us, me and you - if I offered. He said he wouldn’t mind. And - after everything - I feel like - if he’s okay with it... And I don’t want to make him _mad_.”

“Stiles, you’re _scared_ -” Derek tried to say.

“ _I’m not scared_ ,” he hissed back. “He’s my _brother_. I just don’t want him upset with me.”

“That’s _right_. He’s your _brother_. _Brothers_ don’t do this.”

“Well, _we_ do.” Stiles said. “You wouldn’t understand. Twins are different.” he tried to explain. “Closer.”

“Look, just stand up.’ Derek said, reaching down again. Stiles yanked his arm away. “I’ll find something to help with the bruising and we can go-”

“ _No_.” Stiles bit out. “N-O. How are you not getting this? _Jesus_. It is not that difficult. I can’t leave. I _can_ blow you. I _want_ to blow you. What is so fucking hard? Because, it’s obviously _not you_ or I wouldn’t be able to have this conversation right now.”

“How can - How can you talk like that?” Derek rasped out.

“Easy.” Stiles snapped, smiling with no warmth. “My mouth is empty. Haven’t you noticed?”

Derek was silent, and then asked, “If I let you... If we do this, will you leave with me?”

“No.” he refused immediately, starting to tug at Derek’s belt again.

“Please, Stiles.” Derek said, quietly. “Stop.” and the boy’s hand stilled. Derek reached down to cup his cheek. “You’re hurt. Can I just take care of you?”

Stiles slapped the hand away. “ _No_. I don’t need you to “take care” of me like that. Things got out of hand. _I_ got out of hand, with you. Before. All of that was my fault, and I hurt you and Stuart.”

“So-” Derek balked. “So you _deserved_ this?”

“I don’t know what to give you.” Stiles deflected. “You say you want me but you’re not acting like it. I’m being honest with you. I apologized. I’m trying to make things _better_.”

“Please just leave with me. I don’t want to force you.” Derek told him. 

That brought Stiles to a complete halt. He seemed to lose his breathe for a moment, blinking in shock. When he spoke again, his voice was very small. “You would force me?”

Derek looked down and him and couldn’t say anything. Stiles was still staring up at him, holding him in a honeyed gaze. Finally, he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I wouldn’t force you. I - I can’t do that to you.” and he took a side-step away to the door. “I’m going.” 

Stiles clamored to his feet. “You’re just gonna leave me?”

“I’m going to get you help. You won’t come with me, so I need to-” He stopped at the door and turned to the boy. He promised, “I’m going to get you out of here. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Stiles started to beg. “Please. No one else can know. They won’t understand.”

“Because it’s _wrong_.” Derek stressed. “I think you know it’s _wrong_.”

Stiles, shaking his head fervently, corrected: “Because love means something different to everyone.”

Derek blinked, not knowing how to respond. He just turned back to he door and twisted the handle. He was about to walk out, but Stiles placed on hand lightly on his arm to stop him. 

“Would you at least kiss me?” he asked, softly. Derek faced him and the boy was flushed slightly, his lips still wet and parted. 

He knew he should have said no. Stiles was unstable, to say the least. What he thought was normal romantic - or even just sexual - behavior was becoming more and more apparently skewed. His ability to make this sort of decision for himself was questionable. Derek knew that leaving was the only way to not take advantage of the boy.

But he looked so sad, so soft. And the longer Derek stood there, just staring, the closer Stiles shifted until he was just a hair’s breadth away. One of his hands was on Derek’s hip and the other came to rest on the man’s jaw, his fingers brushing against his stubble. 

So, Derek kissed the boy and shouldn’t have. It wasn’t light or even superficial. The moment Stiles’s mouth was on his, he wasn’t just trying to comfort the boy. He was trying to make him forget - make them both forget. Licking into the boy’s hot, slack mouth, twisting his body closer, he closed his eyes very tightly and tried not to think about all the other things that might have been in Stiles’s mouth in the last twenty-four hours. 

All the could think about was marking his territory, as Stiles moaned into his mouth and pressed in a little tighter. Derek wanted to suck and bite at the boy until he bruised. He wanted to kiss him so well, so thoroughly, that he would take enough of Stiles out of the house for him to be safe. 

Stiles’s hand started to creep under his shirt. “Stuart’s going to be gone for hours. He and Peter are getting coffee or shopping or _plotting_ or something. We have lots of time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There was a brush between their bodies, Stiles’s crotch pressing for a moment against Derek’s thigh, and something was wrong. Quicker than either of them could comprehend, Derek pulled himself away, a deep, heavy nausea settling back in his stomach. 

Confusion fell to embarrassment the longer Stiles stood there, panting and flushed. 

“What-” Derek’s voice was much quieter than his pounding heart, so he doubted it could be heard. He raised his voice. “What is that?”

“I think you should go.” Stiles said.

“Stiles, what _is_ that?"

“You said you wanted to leave.” Stiles reminded him. He bridged the gap between them and started to push Derek out of his room. “Just go. I thought you wanted to _go_.”

Derek, unmoving, stared at him dumbly. He could have easily held Stiles against the wall and felt the awkward, foreign bulge in his jeans again. He could have even forced the boy’s pants down to look. Stiles couldn’t have - wouldn’t have - stopped him. Stiles might have given off waves of fear, he might have struggled weakly at the invasion, but Derek, ultimately, would be forgiven. It would have maybe even been seen as the devotion Derek was so desperately trying to convey. 

“Stiles, please,” he said softly, instead. His hands found and covered the boy’s, just holding him. “I need you to tell me. You can be honest with me. I promise - I’m going to try to understand whatever you say.”

Stiles pursed his lips for a minute and looked down at his feet. “Stu said,” he started, and then shook his head. “He’s put me in,” But, that wasn’t right either - worse, even, if the mortified look and sense of utter humiliation the boy was giving off was anything to go by. “I didn’t want you to find out. That’s why I offered to blow you. Stu said he doesn’t care who uses either of my - He doesn’t care who I’m with. But, I’m only allowed to - I can only - with him. He’s the only one allowed to make me.”

Derek felt muddled and over-hot, and he was shaking. “And that,” he clarified. “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with that?”

“I thought you said you’d try to understand.” 

“I am, but-” Derek shook his head. “You’re right. I should go.”

“Where?” Stiles asked, skeptically.

“I’m going to find your dad.”

“Good luck.” Stiles scoffed, trying to sound more confident than he did. “It’s his day off and there’s way too many motels nearby. Me and Stu are probably the only two people who can find him.”

Derek leveled a look at him and the boy, catching it, shook his head. “Nope. Not telling you. I told you - there’s nothing wrong, but people aren’t going to understand. And Dad’s still mad at Stu, so-” He paused, cutting himself off, and his expression changing as he looked back at Derek. “Tell you what.” he murmured, “I’ll trade you.”

Derek stared at him. “You,” he started, trying to comprehend what was happening. The hooded way the boy took him in and the coy little flick of tongue over his lips implied that his thoughts had already turned again. “You’ll trade me?”

Stiles nodded and said, slowly, like Derek was stupid, “Yes. You fuck my face and I’ll tell you where my dad is staying.” 

“Stiles, I don’t want to do that to you.”

“I don’t want to tell you where my dad is, but-”

“Stiles, _please_.” Derek begged.

“You could just fuck me instead. Is that it? Do you not like my mouth?” Stiles didn’t sound like he believed that. It was like he was _flirting_ , fishing for praise. He, one last time, stepped into the man’s space and placed his long, now-steady fingers on Derek’s belt. Finally, as Derek made no move to stop him, he unbuckled it. “That’s a _good boy_.”

Derek eye’s closed and he tried not to focus on Stiles’s hands, one pulling his belt out of the loops slowly, the other snaking around, groping Derek’s ass. 

“Okay.” Derek grumbled.

“What was that?” Stiles asked, dropping the belt to the side.

“ _Okay_.” Derek grit out. “ _Fine_. I’ll trade you.”

Stiles smiled at him genuinely. His body rubbing and pressing against Derek’s, he slid his other hand around to meet it’s match, kneading into the man’s ass. “Thanks,” he hummed, brushing a light kiss on Derek’s lips. Derek would have kissed him back under any other circumstance, he _wanted_ to kiss Stiles at almost all times, but he could feel that awkward wrong bulge in the boy’s pants, firm against him, and everything felt so sick. All he could do was stand, still and quiet.

Pulling back, Stiles sighed at Derek’s lack of enthusiasm. “Guess we gotta fix that.” He shimmied Derek’s jeans down a little and started to feel him through his briefs. Momentarily, he looked a little discouraged. “Do you want to see my cage? Stu said you might like-”

“Don’t talk about him.” Derek growled. “And no.”

Stiles huffed. “ _Derek_.”

“I’m _trying_.”

Stiles sank to the ground and stripped his briefs down to where his jeans were pooled at the man’s knees, then pulled them down to his ankles. Without looking up, Stiles leaned forward to mouth Derek’s mostly soft cock.

Derek did groan, but the noise was sad, lost, pulled from his mouth without his consent. His hands curled into fists at his sides as a wet warmth surrounded his dick. Looking down, Stiles’s eyes had slid shut, eyelashes resting on his cheeks as he tried to work the man hard. Derek closed his own eyes and tried to think about something better.

He couldn’t, though, and the only thing he could remember was how Stiles had cried afterwards so many times when they were alone. And how each time he had been certain he had hurt the boy and each time Stiles would tell him that he was _fine_ , that he was so _gentle_ , like it was the worst and best thing, and bury his face deeper into Derek’s chest. He had thought it was odd but sweet, just a quirk, because, being a supposed virgin before Derek, Stiles had been overwhelmed by the sensation, and now Derek knew better and the realization of it was hot and heavy in his stomach.

Even more vividly, his mind caught on how aroused the boy would smell when giving head before, and that he didn’t smell anything like that now.

Derek opened his eyes to meet the boy’s gaze. Stiles was using his hand now, looking up at him thoughtfully. “Do you want to sit down? Get more comfortable?”

“I’m fine.” he bit out.

“It’s never been so hard to, uh, get you hard.” Stiles told him. “It’s okay,” he added with a wink. “We’re getting there.” He brought his tongue to the head of the man’s half-hard cock before taking it in between his lips. 

He started the hum, the low vibration making Derek moan, and Stiles peeked up at his face, a pleased uptone synching in. He moved his fingers from their hold on Derek’s naked thigh and found Derek’s own hand, balled at the man’s side. He guided that hand to his hair, placing it there for him to comb through or tug as he chose, returning his fingers back to their previous place.

Derek, now hard and gripping lightly at the boy’s graciously offered hair, stayed quiet and motionless as Stiles bobbed and sucked diligently. Finally he pulled off, looking frustrated.

“I said fuck my face.” Stiles reminded him, pumping him instead.

“What.” Derek said, more shocked than anything else.

“ _Fuck my face_.” Stiles ordered. “Come on, I can take it.”

“I - I don’t want to do that.”

“Of _course_ you do.” Stiles snapped back, still working him with a firm grip.

“ _No_ , I _don’t_.” and he hissed as Stiles twisted his grip. 

“Yes, you do. You want to _own_ me, don’t you?”

“No, that’s not-“ Stiles just sighed and sent him one last, mad look before bowing his head again, sucking harder. His fingers on Derek’s thigh dug in tighter as he pulled back to kiss the tip, dirty and open mouthed, making eye contact with the man agin. The look was slutty, smug, tongue out to lap at the wet head, and hand still holding and stroking the base of his cock. 

“Come on,” Stiles tried again. “Show me how hard you can give it.”

“Stiles, I’m not them.” Derek said, without thinking. “That’s not how I want you.”

Stiles lost his flirty look, his mouth falling shut for a moment. Still jacking Derek off towards his face, he said, “My dad’s staying at the Motel 6. He’s in room 218,” and he opened his mouth to take him into his heat again. 

Derek had to groan, unable to respond in any other way, as he clutched Stiles’s hair, feeling his own release coming. He moaned out his name in warning, and Stiles pulled back, fisting his dick as he came hot across the boy’s face. 

All Derek could think was how easy it would be to smear that white across the boy’s cheek with his softening dick. Stiles wouldn’t have even tried to stop him.

They remained silent, still touching, panting, for a moment. Stiles moved to clean Derek’s cock with his mouth, but Derek pushed him gently back. Stiles stared up at him.

“I guess you should go.” Stiles said, not even sounding angry anymore.

Derek pulled back and shuffled his pants and underwear up. “Stay here.” He left the boy on his knees in his bedroom.

When he came back, he had a wad of wet toilet paper. He hesitated at the door, seeing the boy waiting obediently where he left him. He crossed and helped him to his feet. He thought about setting him on the bed and felt his jaw tighten as he reminded himself why he couldn’t. 

“I, uhm,” he started, awkwardly, showing him the toilet paper, seeing if the boy would take it, ‘I don’t know where you keep your wash-cloths.” Stiles didn’t take it, so Derek slowly brought it to his cheek, the corner of his mouth, starting to clean him off.

“Bottom cupboard.” Stiles told him very quietly, his voice swallowed up, looking at him with something that almost seemed like awe.

“Oh,” Derek said, his hand gently cupping the boy’s chin, turning his face a little to clean up the ejaculate on his jaw.

“Stop.” Stiles breathed.

Derek’s hands stilled. “What’s wrong?”

“Stop being so nice to me.” Stiles begged. “Please. I can’t take it.” His eyes fell closed on gathering moisture.

“This is what people who care about each other do.” Derek said, finishing and pulling the soiled material away. 

“No.” Stiles said, looking at him evenly. “This is what _you_ do. I _hate_ it. I want you to stop.”

Derek stepped away, feeling ragged and wrecked. “Why do you hate it?”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He wiped furiously at his cheek as something escaped his eye. Finally, voice thick, he said, “I want you to go now.”

Derek nodded and turned without touching him again or saying anything else and left to go find the Sheriff.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Jeez-o-weez, this took forever to write. I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> Shameless tumblr plug: [My Blog](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/)


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